Fate: Requiem of the Fallen
by Kapskaen
Summary: War is constant. War is eternal. As long as there are two people on the planet, one will kill the other for what the other has. I bring to you a story... of a war involving those we see as Gods. And of a man known only to a select few... as Cale.


"So... A story is what you want." The man leans back in his chair, a decanter of a deep amber liquid sitting in front of him, an empty glass off to the side.

"I'm not much for stories, you know."

Scratching idly at the goatee on his chin, he reaches out with left hand and pours two fingers of the whiskey into the glass, his clear blue eyes flashing as he regards the women in front of him.

"...Since you're still here, I guess you're willing to bear with me a bit. Right."

He takes a pull from the glass, a small appreciative sigh escaping, and rubs at his chin again, this time thoughtfully.

"Let's go back to a time of war. Not a war of men and bullets, fighting for shallow beliefs... A war fought by something much more than men. A war fought by veritable Gods. Let me tell you of the Grail War... And of a warrior named Cale."

* * *

The room was silent. The only meager light streamed from a miniscule window, barred inside and out, the beams from the setting sun stretching out like so many grasping fingers seeking to free the denizens of this dark place from the sight of the living.

A woman, petite of nature, sat quietly on her knees, her head bowed and her golden blonde hair falling out of its elegant bun into her face, across from a large, ornate cell. There were no bars, no constraints.

Just a man, sitting in the same position, bound tightly with what looked to be the very darkness itself. Here and there, shocks of pure, snow-white hair peeked out from his bonds, and one deep crimson eye glared balefully at his visitor.

The woman, sensing something more than sound or scent, turned her head slightly to the left. One green eye glanced over her shoulder at the ancient being behind her, a venerable old man leaning heavily on a thick wooden cane.

"If you came to convince me to stay, Genryusai, you're wasting your breath." Her voice was a solemn lament, and the deep green of her eye filled with sorrow. "I have nothing left here now."

The old man made a deep 'hruum' in his throat. "I simply came to tell you that the ritual will commence tomorrow."

The woman faced toward the bound man, her head bowed once again.

"...Then tomorrow will be the day I rid myself of this wretched society."

A heavy presence settled over the room as the old one moved to her side, also contemplating the white-haired prisoner. "It may bring him some small comfort to see you there."

The woman remained silent.

"I will take my leave, then. It is a great shame what has happened, Mia. I can only hope that you will one day return to us."

With a flicker of cloth, the old man departed the cell, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Silence once again blossomed in the dark cell.

"...I thought you knew better, Cale." Her voice was solemn still, but a note of bitterness began to bleed into the melody of her tone.

"You and Estel knew the risks. You knew that the Ancient Magicks are not meant to be tampered with! You _knew!_"

A pained choking sob tore its way from her throat. "I've lost everything because of you... Estel is dead. Dead, Cale! The human world is destroyed! Humanity is all but extinct! What made you think that only the two of you could destroy that abomination?!"

She stood, turning away from the bound man. "They will be sealing you away, Cale... Forever a slave of the world you decimated. I hope you are happy. I hope this is what you want."

She moved to the door, only looking back once.

Hatred burned in her eyes now, and her voice dripped with venom. "God damn you, Cale. God damn you for this."

* * *

In all honesty, Emiya Shirou had never been a normal child. Normal children didn't lose their memories in a hellish fire that killed their parents and left them terribly wounded.

Normal children wouldn't have been able to brush off the incident as easily as he had, nor would they have taken with such a complete stranger as Emiya Kiritsugu.

They probably would have not begged this stranger to teach them the ways of Thaumaturgy, either.

To Emiya Shirou, normality was simply a word.

He sighed, brushing his sweaty red hair out of his face with an arm still shaking from the pain of the process he had just put himself through.

He secretly wondered if there was a better way of using magecraft, cursing his luck that Kiritsugu had passed before completing his education. Through sheer force of will, he stilled his shaking limbs and threw the now-useless piece of broken lead pipe to the side, having failed to reinforce it properly.

He sighed, putting the pain of his still burning nerve endings out of his mind. Yet another failure. He glanced out of the window, taking in the serenity of the slowing lightening sky as the sun began to peek over the far horizon.

"Sakura will be here soon..."

He suddenly became acutely aware of the stench of his filthy clothes, drenched in sweat, and decided that it would be in his best interest to take a shower and change into a fresh uniform before the underclassman arrived. Maybe he might even get a shot at making breakfast, too. Sakura did like competing with him as far as meals went...

Rising from his kneeling position and wiggling the numbness out of his legs and feet, he started for the house, taking care to lock the shed behind him as he went. He wasn't really sure why he made sure the building was secure every time he left it, seeing as how it was full of junk, but it always made him feel more secure to know that the evidence of his practicing was secure.

He shivered as the brisk morning chilled his damp body and hurried across the small courtyard into his house, sighing as he stepped into the warmth. He glanced at the clock in the living area and frowned. 0615. Sakura liked to arrive at 0630 to collect him, and they usually tried to leave at 0715 to make the fifteen minute walk and still have time before classes began.

He stepped into his room and shed his sweaty clothes, tossing them into a pile in the corner for washing later and laid a fresh one out on his still-unrolled futon, before grabbing a towel and stepping into the bathing room.

In fifteen minutes he stepped out again, refreshed. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he entered the hallway to hear sounds being made in the kitchen and to smell something cooking that, to his disgrace, smelled delicious. So Sakura had beaten him again.

Taking the long way around the house so as not to startle her in his underdressed state, he slipped into his room and quickly dressed into his school uniform and made his way to the kitchen, coming up directly behind Sakura, who was oblivious to his presence as she hummed to herself while tending the cooking food.

Shirou couldn't help the mischievous grin that wormed its way onto his face. He crept up as close as he could to the distracted underclassman and leaned as far over her shoulder as he dared.

Only to hear a slight 'smack' noise as he recoiled, clutching his nose. Sakura was looking over her shoulder, the same mischievous smile on her face as Shirou himself had worn moments ago. "Now Senpai, you know it's rude to sneak up on someone cooking... Someone could have gotten hurt!"

Rubbing his abused nose, Shirou chuckled. "So they could have. My apologies, Sakura. This smells delicious, though, what are we eating this morning?"

The girl turned to face him fully, her face beaming. "We've had nothing but Eastern foods for the past month, so I wanted to try something Western! All of this is from America, the Southern states to be specific... I had to do some research to find all the recipes, but I think I found the right ones! I made sausage patties, scrambled eggs, bacon..."

As the girl began to go into the specifics of her morning labors, turning around to tend the cooking meal, Shirou's soft smile slowly slipped into a frown.

There was something... off.

He could smell it.

* * *

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Groaning miserably as she slapped at her alarm clock, Tohsaka Rin pondered for a single moment if destroying the annoying device would be worth using one of her stronger gems for.

She sat up, her tousled hair falling around her face and shoulders wildly, and decided that today it wasn't worth it. She still had to get to school and -

Sleep fleeing from her completely, her frantic eyes darting to the flashing numbers on the infernal bedside device.

1115.

She was late. Not just late, late enough to be counted absent for the day. Dropping her face into her hands, she bemoaned her rotten luck and began her slow rise from the bed to prepare herself for the day.

"I see you are awake, Master. You have slept for a very long period of time, are you feeling well?"

Rin's long, dark hair whipped about as she spun to face the owner of the cultured voice originating from behind her.

Upon seeing the young blonde haired girl behind her and affirming that she was indeed real, a wide, almost cruel grin spread across her features while all worry of her tardiness slipped her mind.

The girl returned her gaze with an impassive stare, but a twinkle of questioning lingered in her deep green eyes.

Yes, Tohsaka Rin thought to herself, school be damned.

With Saber, the Servant of the Sword at her side, there was nothing in the upcoming tribulations that could stand in her way.

* * *

As always, the school day went by without incident. The only major buzz going through the vine of social networking known as high school gossip was that, apparently, Tohsaka Rin had not shown up for school that day.

For some reason, that small tidbit of information set Shirou's nerves aflame with apprehension. He still could not understand just why it was that he was so on edge about what was turning out to be in all accounts yet another normal day in Fuyuki City, but that didn't change the fact that he was.

When Issei, the Student Body President and (Shirou liked to think) his close friend, asked him to repair some old space heaters in a couple of classrooms, Shirou jumped at the opportunity to do something to occupy his mind away from the nagging dread lingering at the back of his mind.

The work did the job, and by the time Shirou wiped the grease off of his hands and set off for home, the sun had long since set, and he had pushed his doubting mind aside.

That is when he heard a clashing of what sounded like metal on metal.

The apprehension returned full force.

As though compelled to investigate, his legs began to move him towards the sounds echoing through the otherwise silent school grounds, until he came to an area of fencing alongside the Archery Club building.

What he saw stole the breath from his lungs, and turned the warmth of his blood into ice water.

Across the large courtyard were two figures locked in what could only be a contest of blades.

He was too far away to make out their forms, but he knew immediately that they were not human.

No living being had the sheer presence these two exuded. It was almost as if an ocean was suspended over his head, the sheer pressure threatening to crush him where he stood.

He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. He could only watch as these two creatures began their macabre dance anew.

Over and over their swords met, each clash creating reverberations not unlike the collision of two oncoming trains, the force of which rattled through Shirou's bones until he thought he would fall apart.

As if they were glued to the scene, his eyes tracked each fighter to the best of their ability, and he was unable to comprehend the sheer ferocity of the breathtaking scene unfolding before him.

After moments of watching, however, it became clear that one swordsman, a small framed being clad in blue simply outclassed the larger man. With but a few fluid movements that seemed as easy to the being as breathing, the red-clad man found himself disarmed and on his knees before the other's might.

As the being in blue raised its sword for the final blow, Shirou could not help the gasp that slipped through his lips. At once, the entire scene grated to a halt, as both combatants turned their heads in his direction sharply, the ocean of pressure that he had skirted the peripherals of coming to bear on him full force.

In that moment, Shirou knew that he had stumbled across a scene not meant for the eyes of a human. In that moment, Shirou knew he was about to die.

His body began to react on instinct, scrambling away from the courtyard as fast as it could, and sprinting back toward the school building, seeking desperately a place to hide. The rational side of his mind, however, argued futilely that whatever those things had been, they were not human and that no secluded corner would protect him.

Flooded by panic, though, Shirou's body ran and ran until it simply gave out and he collapsed against a wall on the third floor of the main school building.

He gasped for air, trying his best to quell the tremors in his limbs.

How? How had it come to this? Why him, of all people? These thoughts ran rampant through his head, but they fell to the side as the relief of one misguided fantasy flooded him.

'At least I got away for now...'

He dropped his head, as his breathing slowed. He had made it. He was alive.

And he was oh, so wrong.

A voice echoed through the hallway, and Shirou's blood chilled in his veins. It was not outright menacing, instead filled with a dry, seemingly self-depreciating cynicism.

He did, however, sense a grain of wry humor in the rough tone.

"...Yo. You're pretty fast, kid."

For all of his panic, Shirou slowly raised his head to face his killer. He was tall, garbed in black with the remnants of what looked to be a once-grand red jacket, and a low-falling sash of red tied around his waist. His white hair was swept back from his tanned face, where gray eyes regarded his own with a detached amusement.

"You know, kid, I honestly thought it would take me some effort to get to you. Yet here we are, proving me wrong... I'd say this wasn't personal, but I've prayed for a chance to do this."

The man drew his arm back, but a crashing noise drew the attention of both as the window behind the red-clad man exploded inwards.

Like an avenging angel, the warrior in blue lunged toward her opponent, and he hastily pivoted to catch her golden blade.

Shirou realized two things simultaneously, that the smaller swordsman was a young woman, and that she was breathtakingly beautiful. He almost lost himself in her image, before she threw him a cold glance, her eyes asking 'Why are you still here?'

His body once again acting on its own, he found himself following her unspoken order to leave immediately, and once again found himself running away from the school grounds.

He crashed through the front door of his home, not even bothering to remove his shoes as he retreated further into his sanctuary. The house was unnaturally quiet, and the stillness of it all put Shirou on edge.

He rounded the corner to come face to face with his fears. Ragged and bloody, with a wound still freely leaking blood by his left eye, sat the red-clad man from the school.

"I knew you would come back here. You're nothing if not predictable, kid... Just like..."

He trailed off after saying something strange, then shrugged and stood, wincing minutely.

"Saber isn't here now, but it's only a matter of time before she arrives. She was always good at sniffing out misdeeds, but I've waited too long until this moment."

Shirou simply blinked, words escaping him.

He felt a thump, and suddenly he was flying, crashing through the wall to land sprawled on the path to his house. Weakly he stared downward at four feet of sharpened steel that had impaled him to the hilt. His mind couldn't comprehend the fact that the sword had not been there mere seconds before.

He let his head collapse on the ground as a warm, wet feeling began to spread from his back. It was odd, he decided, how death brought no pain. He was intrinsically aware of the unnatural chill of the steel that brought his end. As his vision began to fade, he felt calm. His only regret was that he had never been able to bring Kiritsugu's dream into fruition... He had failed in his promise.

He heard footsteps from close by, yet at the same time from miles away, and a loud yet quiet cry of, "Emiya-kun!"

The sound of clashing metal came again, and words were thrown about that his fading mind could not piece together.

"...not involved, Archer!" "...Saber!" "...on yourself..."

Utterly oblivious to the scheme unraveling around him, Emiya Shirou faded into oblivion.

* * *

"It's dark."

Though his sight had returned, Shirou could only come up with the most obvious description of his surroundings.

What was he doing here? Where was this place?

These thoughts were discarded as they came, he didn't need to know. He seemed to float in the vast emptiness.

He felt himself growing cold. He didn't like the cold. There was something lurking in it, something just waiting to snap him into its jaws and never release him. He had to stay away.

But why? Why was the cold bad? Maybe he could finally rest, he was oh so tired...

"You who have tasted the fruit of Death..."

A voice? How was there a voice in the void?

"...I have received her claim."

Why was this voice even speaking? There is nothing to speak about. The cold is coming, he must escape the cold!

"I will be your sword. I will become your shield."

It was closing on him. Please, stop talking, he needed to escape!

"When all your strength has failed, I shall bring your enemies unto Death's cold bosom."

It's here, oh God, its here. Don't let it take me. Don't let it take-

"I am Servant Reaper. I am yours to command. I am the power of Death itself..."

The boy once known as Emiya Shirou began to fade into the black again, as heat began to seep into his very being."

"...And I do not claim you this day."

* * *

AN: And now we commence with the super goddamn long author's note.

Hello all, I am Kapskaen, and I bring to you the new and improved Fate: Requiem, now henceforth known as Fate: Requiem of the Fallen.

I wanted to apologize to you all for falling off the map, I know I promised updates on top of updates, but I myself am an active duty Marine, and my job has quite literally taken over my life. Sucks sometimes, but hey, roll with the punches, am I right?

I've put a lot of thought into how I want this story to go, and I have a lot of free time on my hands now, so I'll be working on it much more actively than the previous incarnation.

That being said, there will also be a medley of changes I am bringing to this version. It will be nothing like Requiem. New Masters, new Servants, and a whole new plot just bursting at the seams to be told.

I'm excited. I haven't had many good ideas, so this is a whole new venture for me. I hope you will all enjoy it.

I have created a forum, the link will be on my profile, and I invite you all to join me there in the discussion boards. I'll be posting updates on the current chapters and the like there, and be asking for opinions on some ideas I've had bouncing around.

I'd appreciate it a lot if you'd check in from time to time, it really helps to have someone to bounce ideas off of.

Anyway, I'll cut this off here. I have work in about two hours and I need to get ready. I'll see you all hopefully in the forums or the next chapter! Drop a review if you'd like, it never hurts to get feedback, be it negative or otherwise.

Until next time, as always,

~Kapskaen


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